For some strange reason this got deleted from my books, so I'm just adding it again.

Along with Les Misérables, Madame Bovary was one of the first French classics that I read, and Emma B. certainly left her mark. There are so many great reviews of this, and it's not surprising, as it evokes so much within it's readers, and will continue to do so. I might post a proper review at some point, but for now all I will say is that it really is one of the greatest and most important novels ever written.

There are some poor versions of this book out there, but thankfully the Penguin edition I read was top-notch. Still wish I had read it in French though, but at the time, long before moving to France from the UK, my french was only just getting off the ground.

Why was her life so inadequate? Why did everything she leaned on instantly crumble into dust? These were the questions tormenting Emma (Madame Bovary) in her solitude that she never expected to exist in her nuptial life of which she dreamed. Yet, the gaps widened. The barriers grew stronger.

"A man, at least is free; he can explore the whole range of the passions, go wherever he likes, overcome obstacles, savor the most exotic pleasures. But a woman is constantly thwarted. Inert and pliable, she is restricted by her physical weakness and her legal subjection. Her will, like the veil tied to her hat with a cord, quivers with every wind; there is always some desire urging her forward, always some convention holding her back."

The solitude, she was forced to invent for her, had soon become unbearable. Is it the city life she was longing for? There are traces to positively acknowledge this question. But this is not the reason for the entirety of her distress. There must be something or someone she is really longing for.

"Don’t you know there are some souls that are constantly tormented? They need dreams and action, one after the other, the purest passions, the most frenzied pleasures, and it leads them to throw themselves into all sorts of fantasies and follies."

Was she a sacrifice to her marriage? A woman who had imposed such great sacrifices on herself certainly had a right to indulge in a few whims. She remembered the adulterous women from novels she read and their amorous adventures, imagining herself to be the heroine of her romantic adultery and victimizing herself to "Women like that ought to be horsewhipped!". But fantasies fooled her. Follies tormented her. Alas! Heroes left her, once they grew tired of her feminine refinements.

"Would this misery last forever? Was there no escape from it? And yet she was certainly just as good as all those other women whose lives were happy! She had seen duchesses at * who had dumpier figures and cruder manners than she, and she cursed God’s injustice..."

Is she to be blamed for her distress? Are not those princely guys who entered her life, uninvited, and ravished her dreams, even distantly responsible for her self-torment? or Can we just call it as an ill-fate of a wretched soul?

The author strictly prohibits you from drawing any conclusion or even making any inference from this story brimming with sad tears which touch the nuptial rings on the delicate fingers of the fragile beings. This is just the account of Madame Bovary. The ordeals of poor Monsieur Bovary are inexpressibly sad. Hence, better not expressed in words or emotions or any form. God save their daughter Berthe! Period!


Movie - Warning:
Please don't see the movie and underrate this excellent book. It is really disgusting how someone can badly mess up a story like this one. I just don't get it. You have a written script and why can't you make a movie as it is? or If you want to change the story totally or make it meaningless, why to use the title? Meh! I would happily call this movie as "Confessions of a shopaholic - 2" or something like that, given a chance.

Notes on translation
I didn't find any major difference between the translation of Geoffrey Wall (Penguin Classics) and Lydia Davis (Penguin Deluxe). However, Davis' translation is found to be easier to read and have better words at certain important places. But, when it comes to the question of paying more (Deluxe Editions are expensive. At least, here in my country, they are!) for a better widely acclaimed translation, I have to say that I am little disappointed. Neverthless, it is a keeper!

_Madame Bovary_

Ok. I liked this book.
So, this is slow paced, full of descriptions and in general, not many things are happening even though the book covers a period of several years. It's "multilayered" on many aspects, giving us pieces out of eveyone's thoughts and showing us the emptiness of the provincial life in the ending decates of the 19th century in France. The humor, the kindness and the elegance which Flaubert uses in his writing in order to present the story and the characters is everything. The descriptions are alive. It's like you can watch them move in front of you. It is mainly the psychographic portrait of Emma, our main protagonist, but also, in a smaller extend, of all the people in her life. This is a masterpiece.
From here on there are going to be some minor SPOILERS cz i just wanna talk about a few things in the book.


First of all, i think i kind of like Emma. I know, she is emotionally unstable, always treating her life with ingratitude, she is vainglorious, greedy and conceited. She is impulsive and unpredictable. But after all this mess, i cannot dislike her, so i think i might actually like her. I beared everything that she did in this book but i swear there were times i wanted to just tell her "Hold still, my human, for a moment. Stop and look where you are, whom you are with. Stop and say to yourself, I am happy. Feel that. Be grateful for that. Ask for no more." But of course Madame Bovary is so not that kind of person. And at the end of the book, when i started getting tired of her mess, she did something. She denied something with strength and honor and it felt like to me, that not everything was lost, even though everything was lost. She is self-desastrous in this whole book but she walks in her complete destruction with such small steps that you can only undersand how far she has come in the mess of her life only in the last chapters, when Flaubert sums up all her actions, even the minor ones.
This book needs your paitence and understanding while reading it. I appreciate this piece of literature Flaubert has offered and i am sure i will reread it at some point. 5/5

n  

Before marriage she thought herself in love; but the happiness that should have followed this love not having come, she must, she thought, have been mistaken. And Emma tried to find out what one meant exactly in life by the words felicity, passion, rapture, that had seemed to her so beautiful in books.

n
You might be surprised to learn that I was mesmerized by Emma’s life story. I was mesmerized and suffered along with her as she capsized further and further into the ambushes life presented her. Yes, I felt like I was in a trance and could not escape. Oh, Emma, dear Emma, why do people hate you so? Why did you make them feel that way? I am sorry for being so blunt. You, and your seemingly shallow priorities, gave your critics plenty of ammunition. You did the unthinkable. What excuse did you have for such a selfish, impulsive and futile behavior? Did you by any chance hear Virginia Woolf say 'You cannot find peace by avoiding life.'? What did you have to dive head first before she even professed this truth? But you might have overdid it, don’t you agree with me?

n  The horror of being a woman with no choices…n

As I read on, I kept coming back to one thought: the most terrifying thing I can think of is getting caught in Emma Bovary’s life. She was not alone in her infidelity, did you know that? Not in her time, not today. What about the reason for marriage? She married to escape, I know. And she hoped for a better life. I don’t believe she loved Charles, not even in the beginning. Maybe she romanced him, what woman would not do it in her place?
n  

…sitting on the grass that she dug up with little prods of her sunshade, Emma repeated to herself, "Good heavens! Why did I marry?"

She asked herself if by some other chance combination it would have not been possible to meet another man; and she tried to imagine what would have been these unrealised events, this different life, this unknown husband. All, surely, could not be like this one. He might have been handsome, witty, distinguished, attractive, such as, no doubt, her old companions of the convent had married… But she—her life was cold as a garret whose dormer window looks on the north, and ennui, the silent spider, was weaving its web in the darkness in every corner of her heart.

n
And I remembered Jane Austen, who opened the door for woman to search for happiness in their marriage. Why did women marry in those times? Women married only to increase their social standing or for money, but with Austen they start to have a chance at happiness. Flaubert does something similar with Madame Bovary, I believe. He accuses the status quo, the position of women, in a circumvented way, by showing us Emma’s deep unhappiness and how her actions condemned her and society. Poor Emma. I pitied her for each time she fixed her gaze on some scheme of happiness and how her eyes led her astray.
n  

Then the lusts of the flesh, the longing for money, and the melancholy of passion all blended themselves into one suffering, and instead of turning her thoughts from it, she clave to it the more, urging herself to pain, and seeking everywhere occasion for it. She was irritated by an ill-served dish or by a half-open door; bewailed the velvets she had not, the happiness she had missed, her too exalted dreams, her narrow home.

n
The only pastime she could enjoy without guilt was reading. From that she built fantasies, it is true. But did she not have the right at least of her own fantasies? It seems not, as we overhear Charles and her mother in law talking:
n  

"Do you know what your wife wants?" replied Madame Bovary senior. "She wants to be forced to occupy herself with some manual work. If she were obliged, like so many others, to earn a living, she wouldn't have these vapours, that come to her from a lot of ideas she stuffs into her head, and from idleness in which she lives."

"Yet she is always busy," said Charles.

"Ah! always busy at what? Reading novels, bad books, works against religion, and in which they mock at priests in speeches taken from Voltaire. But all that leads you far astray, my poor child. Anyone who has no religion always ends up turning badly."

So it was decided to stop Emma reading novels.

n
As if she had the choice of earning a living, being a female. What hypocrisy! The only choice they see to avoid her turning badly is to forbid her reading her novels. One of the few pleasures she was allowed.

In a time that judged everyone by their wealth; that breathed a suffocating morality deceptively reinforced mainly by women themselves, society would be horrified by women’s pursuit of anything more than their obligations. On top of all that isn’t it understandable that Emma would pray for a son when she got pregnant?
n  

She hoped for a son; he would be strong and dark; she would call him George; and this idea of having a male child was like an expected revenge for all her impotence in the past. A man, at least, is free; he may travel over passions and over countries, overcome obstacles, taste of the most far-away pleasures. But a woman is always hampered.

n
She was so right, men at least were much more free than women. I not only comprehend her reasons, but commiserate with her. So, why look at a baby girl she knew had been born with the wrong gender! It all went against her most heartfelt dreams. Emma might have towards the end had a touch of evil brought by desperation. But who wouldn't?

n  Ambushes and pitfalls...n

Oh, she tried to renounce all her dreams through moments of fervent religious devotion. At mass on Sundays, when she looked up, she saw the gentle face of the Virgin amid the blue smoke of the rising incense. Then she was moved… Intrigue, however, had already tempted her and kept coming her way. Why would she be invited and attend a ball in a house so out of her reality? Was it not a trap? After that, you could not help yourself but wish you had access to that fairy like life. What an ambush, when she was attempting to behave:
n  

Her journey to Vaubyessard had made a hole in her life, like one of those great crevices that a storm will sometimes make in one night in mountains. Still she was resigned. She devoutly put away her beautiful dress, down to the satin shoes whose soles were yellowed with the slippery wax of the dancing floor. Her heart was like these. In its friction against wealth something had come over it that could not be effaced.

n
Such a fortuitous event served only to stress the undesirability of her life.
n  

After the ennui of this disappointment her heart once more remained empty, and then the same series of days recommenced. So now they would thus follow one another, always the same, immovable, and bringing nothing. Other lives, however flat, had at least the chance of some event. One adventure sometimes brought with it infinite consequences and the scene changed. But nothing happened to her; God had willed it so! The future was a dark corridor, with its door at the end shut fast.

n
Another bait would present herself in the person of Monsieur Lheureux. He began cajoling Emma quite innocently for the first time when offering her to buy some scarves, 'I wanted to tell you, he went on good-naturedly, 'that it isn’t the money I should trouble about. Why, I could give you some, if need be.' Thus, another temptation felt into her lap like a dream come through. The endless line of irresponsible credit was not more than an option offered her that she could not have imagine existed if were not for this trickster.

Later we witness how she tries to reform, to be more tolerant and wishing to endure her life as it was, taking responsibility for her daughter and taking interest in the housework. Just then up comes Monsieur Rodolphe Boulanger, who after first meeting Madame Bovary '[s]he is very pretty', he said to himself, 'she is very pretty, this doctor’s wife.' And he goes on, 'I think he is very stupid. She is tired of him, no doubt. She is gaping after love like a carp after water on a kitchen-table. Yes, but how to get rid of her afterwards?' He decides so easily to seduce her. Oh, yes, she went along with it and of her free will. But it was too much temptation, for someone so thirsty. I imagined that if it was not Rodolphe it would be another. And later on came Leon.

After the affair with Rodolphe begins, Emma marvels at how much she had lacked living before:
n  

"I have a lover! a lover!" delighting at the idea as if a second puberty had come to her. So at last she was to know those joys of love, that fever of happiness of which she had despaired! She was entering upon marvels where all would be passion, ecstasy, delirium. An azure infinity encompassed her, the heights of sentiment sparkled under her thought, and ordinary existence appeared only afar off, down below in the shade, through the interspaces of these heights.

n
Thus, Flaubert puts all these temptations in her way. It is as if Emma when walking down a meadow starts to stumble on beautiful, ripe apples that lie on the ground and cannot resist but pick some and take a few bites. Could she have resisted them all?

n  But could Emma have escape her destiny?n

Could she have simply accepted life as it was offered to her?, with all its constraints and no reward... I believe all that she lived was utterly inevitable. Could she have run away from her own behavior and avoided her ultimate destiny? Emma was on the same boat as Oedipus found himself in. I felt after reading Oedipus Rex that there was not really anything that Oedipus could have done to get himself out of his destiny. Could Emma have done it differently? It seemed to me that the more Oedipus attempted to get out of it, the deeper he was immersed in its inevitability. It is simply that there was no way for him to avoid doing it all and facing his fate. Was Emma’s destiny any less inevitable? I do not believe so. There was no chorus to declare that to us, but Flaubert himself serves the role, even if it is not so explicit and you have to read between the lines:
n  

It seemed to her that the ground of the oscillating square went up the walls and that the floor dipped on end like a tossing boat. She was right at the edge, almost hanging, surrounded by vast space. The blue of the heavens suffused her, the air was whirling in her hollow head; she had but to yield, to let herself be taken; and the humming of the lathe never ceased, like an angry voice calling her.

n

n  And so it all ends…n

But as in the beginning in the end, you beguiled me Emma. I was with you from the start and you could not escape me even in death. Seriously, I tell all your critics, your tragic story would not leave me alone. It still doesn’t. You had no choice like Oedipus could not escape killing his father or marrying his mother. So, why people do not stop condemning you when they pity him?

You were clever and wanted to exercise your intellect. Imagine the frustration of nothing to do? Perhaps your mother in law was right, you were fated to end badly. What a tragedy of never finding someone that could begin to understand you. Flaubert with his impressive prose evokes her thoughts and feelings throughout the novel, and I had no choice but be enticed by his heroine.
n  

...it seemed to her that Providence pursued her implacably, ...she had never felt so much esteem for herself nor so much contempt for others... She would have liked to strike all men, to spit in their faces, to crush them, and she walked rapidly straight on, pale, quivering, maddened, searching the empty horizon with tear-dimmed eyes, and as it were rejoicing in the hate that was choking her.

n
Finally, I think I was able to grasp the reasons that make Madame Bovary a classic, a modern tragedy where a soul is doomed because she appreciates and battles against all that comes her way. Despite her limitations in life and as a product of her time, Emma has an unbridled passion and ends pursuing her fantasies. That ends condemning her. Nevertheless, Emma Bovary is brave in her irresponsible choices because it brings her closer to the happiness she wants, even if doing so she is able to attain only a glimpse of her dreams. Even if for that she had to die. And she died so that other women could strive for a more compassionate fate.
___

When I was last at Cambridge Public Library, I saw a gentleman reading this book, and I so desperately wanted to talk to him. Instead, I secretly took a picture of the only other person who reads Penguin Classics in public because yes, I am an introverted, socially awkward coward.

Recently, this article popped up on my phone: Flaubert Versus the World.

The article’s author teaches Madame Bovary at a London university, and his students found it boring, hated it, and hated the main character, Emma. They said, “that woman had everything” and found her completely unsympathetic.

So let’s talk…..

Madame Bovary was published in 1857, and it was set in France.

Emma Rouault grows up in a convent, and her mother dies. One day, she meets Charles Bovary, a doctor, who ends up marrying her, ripping her away from her entire network. Emma (now Madame Bovary) is miserable. Her sole companion, a greyhound named Djali runs away.

Emma’s life is devoid of meaning. Her childrearing and domestic duties are outsourced to her staff. Without a vocation or community, Emma’s days are empty.

As if that isn’t bad enough, Emma’s mother-in-law hates her. Instead of kindness and compassion, her mother-in-law lambastes her spending rather than offering any meaningful advice or connection. The poor dear is alone all day, unable to even talk to her maid as socializing with the help wouldn’t be proper according to the rules of society. She doesn’t have email or the telephone to call friends. The only person who consistently shows up for her is Monsieur Lheureux, the draper, who wants to sell various goods.

In desperation, Emma attempts to fill the aching loneliness. She embraces religion, but the clergy can’t be bothered. The townspeople also don’t seem to be bursting with Christian charity or love. Yes, Emma engages in retail therapy (but let the person who has not ordered from Amazon cast the first stone), and she has various love affairs.

Chuckie…I mean Charles, her husband, says how much he loves her. But Chuckie either 1) is blind to her misery or 2) doesn’t know her at all. He couldn’t be bothered to have an honest conversation about what they could afford. He gripes about fate….puh leeze, Chuckles!

Emma certainly doesn’t “have everything.” She lacks a supportive network, a true friend, someone who sees her as she truly is, to be known.

That being said, Flaubert is awful, arrogant, and pompous. He startingly insisted that he could create Emma Bovary because he knew her from the inside out—“Madame Bovary is myself—drawn from life.”

Okay, Captain Cringe.

The book is slow, S-L-O-W, with far too many pointless descriptions. In addition to reeking of ignorant haughtiness, Flaubert decided to experiment with not using quotation marks when a character speaks. This did not enhance the text. And despite Flaubert’s boasts, he doesn’t write Emma convincingly.

He doesn’t mention the persistent dark shadow of loneliness following Emma, that she is lost in the world without a compass, nothing to illuminate her path forward. People don’t find Emma sympathetic because Flaubert didn’t write her well. Such a shame!

And now for the twist ending!

The 2010 Lydia Davis translation was recommended by James Mustich in 1,00 Books to Read Before You Die. Did I listen? No.

My version was translated by Geoffrey Wall.

Big deal. Who cares? Can’t you just drop a text into Google Translate?

Indulge me for a moment, and let’s look at one of the most famous lines in history from The Great Gatsby: “It was an extraordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness such as I have never found in any other person and which is not likely I shall ever find again.”

But that wasn’t the original line Fitzgerald wrote: “It was an extraordinary aliveness to life, an alert vitality such as I have never found in any human person and which it is not likely I shall ever find again.”

The original isn’t as strong; it is completely forgettable. In part, it is because the famous line makes use of alliteration, “romantic readiness.” This lyrical line stirs the soul. Good translation requires skill beyond Google Translate—the soul is not a robot.

Hesitating to extend the benefit of the doubt to Flaubert, perhaps his prose is better in French, and his artistic brilliance is victim to a bad translation.

As is, this is a repulsive, boring work written by a bizarre, egotist who doesn’t live up to his own hype.

The Green Light at the End of the Dock (How much I spent):
Softcover Text (Penguin Classics version)- $11.28 from Blackwell's
Audiobook – 1 Audible Credit (Audible Premium Plus Annual – 24 Credits Membership Plan $229.50 or roughly $9.56 per credit)

2025 Reading Schedule
JantA Town Like Alice
FebtBirdsong
MartCaptain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Berniere
AprtWar and Peace
MaytThe Woman in White
JuntAtonement
JultThe Shadow of the Wind
AugtJude the Obscure
SeptUlysses
OcttVanity Fair
NovtA Fine Balance
DectGerminal

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Vladimir Nabokov, somewhere, I think it was in an interview reprinted in Strong Opinions, spoke of coming across his father's copy of Madame Bovary and finding a note scrawled inside: "the unsurpassed pearl..." I agree with that assessment.

Since I read Quicksand by Nella Larsen this week, Emma Bovary started haunting my mind yet again!

We are old friends, Emma and I.

I spent hours and hours over a dictionary at age seventeen in high school, trying to read about her agonies in original French, with only the Isabelle Huppert film as a guidance. In fact, I actually think I owe it to Emma Bovary that I finally made it over the threshold to understand written French. That ultimately led me to university studies in French literature, and a lifelong love for French writers. In a way, I could argue that Emma introduced me to Diderot and Voltaire, I guess.

But she did so much more for me, as well.

She awakened in me a sense that the world holds different options for women and men, and that women's dreams are dangerous, detrimental and slightly sentimental and ridiculous. She made me socially, politically angry for the first time.

I know there are thousands of erudite studies showing all the weaknesses of Emma Bovary, but from the start, I could not - would not - see her that way. I was with her when she danced in the ballroom, and I wished the party would never end. I hated the conventional goodness of Charles, and understood Emma's frustration with him better than his frustration with her. After all, she had ideas, dreams, longings, and he had: routine, reputation and boredom.

I rejoiced that she dared to do what men have always, always allowed themselves to do: enjoy a sexual life of her own choice. She knew she would pay a much higher price than any man ever would for that freedom. I loved the fact that she embraced life in its passion and pain, and I suffered through the horrifying pages of her brutal final agony with the feeling that I would not have wanted her to say no to one single piece of experience in exchange for a better end - living according to her husband's standards would have been death over and over, without end.

I am fully aware that this is not a moral reading or interpretation of the novel, and I don't encourage or follow her choices in real life, but I loved Emma Bovary's daring rebellion without limits when I was young, and it has never actually changed. Whenever I remember my encounter with Emma, the first thought invariably is: "Go girl! Do what you want!"

To close the circle: reading Larsen's Quicksand made me think of Emma because the character Helga Crane, not fully belonging anywhere, and drifting from one place to the next, never really lives her dreams fully. She always pulls out, runs away, hides from too strong emotions, and in the end, she resigns herself to rural life with a preacher she hates, and multiple pregnancies to bind her to the hopeless boredom and tedium.

Reading about Helga, I found myself thinking again with fondness of Madame Bovary: "Go girl! Do what you want!"

Every sentence is a considered sentence. Every sentence has a purpose. You know, I read so much just-published contemporary so-called literary fiction that I forget sometimes how great books can be. I don’t think most writers understand that every sentence can be intentional and purposeful, and I think most readers have been lulled into not expecting more. There are probably a hundred books published a year that meet this high bar but the only way to find them is to quickly let go of the ones that are flabby and bleh, no matter what sort of real-time praise they get. I’m thinking there needs to be more intention in the writing I read for me to keep on with a book and not put it down. I could say this reread has set a high bar generally in what I’m going to read for some time to come. I’m sick of the blah-blah. Ok. That’s about it.

Роман, который по праву считается одним из шедевров мировой литературы, сюжетно прост. Красивая девушка, воспитанная в монастыре урсулинок, начитавшаяся романтических романов, мечтает о возвышенной романтической любви. Ее мужем становится захолустный лекарь-вдовец, женившийся по расчету в первом браке, полюбивший ее с первого взгляда. Этот роман - реалистическое препарирование провинциальных душ, этих пошлейших Шарля Бовари, аптекаря Эме, помощника нотариуса Леона Дюпюи, торговца Лере, но главным объектом внимания автора является Эмма. Насмешка не только над романтизмом, как литературно-культурным явлением, но склонностью к романтизации жизни у многих, особенно у женщин (нельзя сказать, что только женщины имеют эту склонность, мужчины тоже подвержены это напасти), пресловутое ожидание «принца на белом коне, который увезет в прекрасное далеко», жизни-вечного праздника, является тонко помеченным комплексом, разновидности нарциссизма. Эта тяга к нарядам, милым сердцу вещицам, коврам и портьерам – тяга к красивой жизни, жажда роскоши - является инструментом самоутверждения: если реальность волшебным образом не изменяется, то эти статусные вещи при отсутствии финансовой возможности ими обладать, создают иллюзию приближения к вожделенному идеалу жизни. Эмма поняла, что ошиблась непосредственно после свадьбы, но после посещения бала в Вобьесаре, она заболела, так было сильно ее потрясение от понимания недоступности для нее такой жизни. Ее понимание ошибки было неполным, она делает попытки полюбить мужа, которого по всем критериям можно отнести к олухам, так он был слеп, глух и глуп (не от любви, а от провинциальной простодушности, эгоизма и удовлетворенности своим бытием), хотя горячо любил ее. После бала она понимает, что в это благородное общество она не войдет, но тяга, если не к красивой жизни (которую она удовлетворяет изысканными туалетами, нелепо смотрящимися в провинциальном доме и городке), то хотя бы к красивым чувствам с тем же глубоко спрятанным в душе ожиданием, что ее увезут из этого затхлого мирка, в ней остается. Ее предает один любовник, потом другой. Она не понимает, что мужчины в ее жизни наслаждаются плотской любовью, ничего не давая взамен, то есть попросту используют ее. Она прозревает, что ее не любят, когда она получает письмо о расставании, присланной Родольфо в корзинке с абрикосами, которое также вызывает у нее нервное потрясение, похожее, как после бала, но уже гораздо более тяжелое. Я не думаю, что в Леоне она видит того, кто сможет ее увезти и изменить ее жизнь, в плотской любви она просто находит отвлечение от пустоты и постылой жизни в своей семье. Для нее он просто любовник, и она продолжает мечтать об идеале. Что же ее убивает – страх быть разоблаченной в неверности или все же невозможность расплатиться по счетам с дальнейшей перспективой нищеты, которая окончательно похоронит ее надежды? Я не думаю, что ее сильно волновало общественной мнение, ведь сколько раз и Родольфо и Леон упрекали ее в отсутствии осторожности, мужа он тоже ни во что не ставила, и перед самоубийством она не позаботилась уничтожить улики своих любов��ых отношений. Она глотает мышьяк после отказа в деньгах. Но не сами деньги ее волновали, а волновала перспектива нищеты, утрата мечты: если дорогие наряды и домашняя обстановка были способом самоутверждения, то их отсутствие полностью уничтожало ее саму в ее собственных глазах, лишало жизнь смысла.
Неосознаваемые комплексы неполноценности, такие, какими страдала Эмма Бовари, широко распространены, и сейчас полно таких людей, причем обоих полов. Мне нравится разбор комплекса неполноценности у Адлера, но Флобер это сделал в великолепной художественной форме.

هي الرواية الخالدة , التي وضعت بداية جديدة لفن الرواية بصفة خاصة وللأدب بصفة عامة , فلوبير لم يكتب مجرد نَص روائي مميز , بل كتب مفترق طرق للأدب , فيقال الرواية قبل (مدام بوڨاري) والرواية بعدها.

لطالما كنت من المنبهرين بالأعمال التي تناقش الضعف الإنساني , فهي تُقدم لك الإنسان بسليقته وما جُبل عليه , تقدم لك واقع الحباة وما تفرضه علينا المشاعر الطارئة وكيف أننا نُخدع وندعي مثالية زائفة في حين أن التجربة تكن لها كلمتها العليا .

الرواية هي (آنا كارنينا) الفرنسية وشبيهتها إلى حد بعيد , هي الرواية التي تجد شبيه لها فى كل ثقافة وكل لغة , فكانت من العالمية أن تركت بصمتها القوية على مختلف المجتمعات .

عن الرواية : لم يمهلك الكاتب كثيرًا لكي تلتقط أنفاسك , فقد وضعك في مواجهة مباشرة مع شخصياته وأحداثه الروائية , ملمًا بكل الجوانب يقدم لك الكاتب عمله , فيقدم لك وصف بليغ ومن أكمل ما يكون عن بيئة الأحداث ويقدم تأريخ مجتمعي متميز لتلك الفترة .

عمق نفسي من أروع ما يكون : فشارل بوڨاري يعيش معك وتعيش معه في كل فترات حياته ,فندما يولد يجعلك تراه يلعب وكيفية تعامل أمه وأبيه معه , وعندما يدخل المدرسة يجعلك تلميذ فى فصله تناكفه وتشاغبه وهو صامد على مدار مراحل تعلميه وحتى عندما يفشل يجد فى أمه حائط يقويه ويجعله يعبر مرحلة فشله , وعندما يتزوج زيجته الأولى : ينقل لك معاناته ومدى الاضطراب النفسي الذي وقع له واحساسه بالخديعة وعندما يصبح أرمل تستنشق معه نسيمحرية ما , وعندما يتزوج الزيجة الثانية تشفق عليه وتعطف ,ولكن لا يخلو الإشفاق من احتقار خفي تعجز عن منعه , ولكن لحظات حبه لزوجته وتعلقه بها تبث في نفسك شئ من السعادة .

أما (إيما أو مدام بوڨاري ) فتقف أمامها عاجزًا , فلقد عجزت إلا عن حب آنا كارنينا الروسية ولكني فشلت في حب إيما بوڨاري ولا أدري أهو تعمد من الكاتب أم تحيّز شخصي تجاهها , ورغم الطبيعة الإنسانية في الميل إلى العطف على الخاطئين من بني البشر أحيانًا , إلا أني فشلت في هذه الحالة .

ولكن لنصبر قليلًا ونضع انفسنا فى مكان الزوجة , ونتفكر في ذنبها وما عانته ونحاول الوضول إلى الخطيئة الرئيسة في الموضوع , أهو الطموح الزائد أم الرغبة العنيفة في حياة معينة رسمتها مخيلتها , أم هو الضعف الإنساني ؟؟؟
نجح الكاتب بكل براعة في أن ينقل لك معاناة شخصياته ويجعلك تتأثر بأحداثهم (شخصيا بكيت في فصل موت مدام بوڨاري تأثرًا وحزنًا على حال زوجها ولعى نهايتها المآساوية) ورأيت فى هذا الفصل قمة ابداع الكاتب .
فى المجمل : العمل عن الضعف والرغبة الزائفة والخديعة التي يقع فيها المرء نتيجة لغشاوة عواطفه , مع دمج ممتع لطبيعة المجتمع وعرض لبعض وجهات النظر المختلفة بحيث ينقلك إلى ظروف المكان وزمانه .

وفي النهاية : يا كل امرأة رسمت في خيالها الحياة المثالية تمهلي , ويا كل أنثى رأت فى رجل ما حلمها المنشود تريثي , فخلف الباب مغامرة والنفس ضعيفة وغريبة ولا تُؤمن تصرافتها , فلا تحملِ نفسك أكثر مما تستطيع.

العمل ترجمة أستاذنا محمد مندور وكانت ترجمة مميزة شاملة دلت عن علم واسع ومعرفة بالمجتمع الروائي , وتدل على عبقرية النص الفرنسي .

وكعادة المجتمعات فى عصور الظلام : نرى إناس يضعون أنفسهم مكان الآلهة فيجرمون هذا ويعاقبون ذلك , و وقت ما نُشرت الرواية تصدى البعض ورفع دعوى قضائية ضد الكاتب ودار نشره متهما إياهم بالفجور وإشاعة الفحشاء , وكانت قضية شهيرة قام مندور بعرض كافة مرافعاتها من كل الاطراف المعنبية بها وكذلك حكم البراءة , كل ذلك فى جزء خاص من الطبعة التي قرأتها .

مدام بوفاري
هذه المرأة التي لا تدري أتحتقرها أم تبكي عليها
أتشفق على حالها أم تلعنها

فيا لكل هذا البؤس
ويا لكل هذا السخط
..

وربما يكون السخط هو مفتاح الرواية الرئيسي
فهو الشعور الذي يمزق إيما لحما ودما وتأوهات
لقد انبثقت تعاستها جزعا ووجعا وتهورا وتمردا‏
ولكن الأنكى من هذا كله
خيانةً

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بلغت الأنانية بإيما مبلغا جعلها تحطم كل القوانين
لا القوانين التي ابتدعها البشر والتي لا أبالي بها‏
بل قوانين الإنسانية التي كان عليها تقديمها على هذا الشبق الذي ملأ ‏كيانها
فجعلها تنساق ملهوفة أمام كل رغبة ملونة زاهية
ضاربة بعرض الحائط كل وخز مؤنب بداخلها
بأن عليها ألا تخون

ألا تخون...‏
‎
فهل نعذر مدام بوفاري لأنها تعيش جحيمها الخاص
لأنها تعاني البرود وهي جمرة متقدة
لأنها انزلقت آملة في حياة شغوفة ‏
تبدد الحيرة والألم والسأم

لأنها أرادت أن تعيش كيفما ترى للعيش معنى..؟
‎
بالتأكيد ستبكي معها وعليها
ولكنك لن تتوقف عن لعنها كذلك

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قيمة الرواية تتجلى في قدرة الكاتب المدهشة
على الغوص بداخل ‏دماغ مدام بوفاري وتبيان هذا التخبط المزاجي الذي عاشته
وجعل قارئه يعيش الحيرة طوال الرواية وحتى بعد إتمامها

فلوبير بروايته هذه اتجه بقوة نحو الكتابة الواقعية ‏
منفلتا من أسر الأدب الرومانسي‏

مثريا روايته بعمق النظرة
ومبحرا في دهاليز شخصياته بهواجسها وأمنياتها المعلقة
وعارضا للأفكار بتضاربها واختلافاتها ‏
وهذا الدافع الآثم المطهِّر بداخل كل واحد فينا‏
للتحرر ..‏
للهروب من قيود فرضتها علينا مجتمعات وأيدولوجيات لا ذنب لنا في كوننا جوارها
ولكن أبدا ابدا لا نكون جزءا منها

Pur essendo stato scritto nel 1856, Madame Bovary è un titolo esemplare anche per interpretare sentimenti soverchianti sui social media come la noia e la frustrazione e gli atteggiamenti nevrastenici che adottiamo con il cambio repentino delle mode tipici della contemporaneità globalizzata e interconnessa. Sembra qualcosa di anni luce rispetto alla vita in provincia limitata e frustrante in cui è immersa Emma Bovary, una donna che ha come unica prospettiva il matrimonio, secondo le convenzioni del tempo, e invece no. Ne ho parlato a lungo qui -> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sB_OJ...